


Alternative uses for office furniture

by BecauseImClassy



Series: Inappropriate Workplace Behavior [2]
Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Smut, Office Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Shameless Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-13
Updated: 2016-06-13
Packaged: 2018-07-14 22:24:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7193270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BecauseImClassy/pseuds/BecauseImClassy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Matt and Karen have sex in the office. That's it, that's the plot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Alternative uses for office furniture

**Author's Note:**

> This takes place immediately after Give yourself a hand (they are having a busy afternoon, what can I tell you?). I tried to make sure it could stand alone if you haven't read that one. Back when I wrote Give yourself a hand, I thought it was going to be just a one-shot, but sometimes I have Ideas, and then I write Things, and here we are.
> 
> The setting is post season 1, everyone still works together at Nelson and Murdock and no-one is fighting, and season 2 doesn't exist. Karen knows Matt's secrets, and they are not dating. Yet.

Karen stands in the office’s tiny kitchen, making coffee. The afternoon has been quiet, there’s not much actual work for her to do, and she’s been spending as much time daydreaming as she has working. Looking through the windows of his office at Matt, watching him work. Imagining how it would feel to have his arms around her, his lips pressed against hers. Wanting to touch him, to see what he looks like without a shirt, to feel his hands on her skin. Wondering what might happen if she acted on her desire, if there’s any chance he wants her as much as she wants him. He’s given her some pretty good indications that he’s attracted, but that doesn’t necessarily mean he wants to act on that attraction.

She can hear his voice through the wall, talking on the phone, but she can’t make out the words. She glances over the kitchen shelves, making note of what supplies are running low. She hears Matt come out of his office, then a moment later there he is in the doorway. He’s a good-looking man under any circumstances, but Karen likes him best when he’s a little untidy, like he is now—unshaved, shirt sleeves rolled up, tie loosened. His hair looks like he’s run his fingers through it, and Karen grips the counter to still her sudden urge to run _her_ fingers through it. God, he’s sexy.

“That was Foggy on the phone,” he says, leaning in the doorway. “Interviewing this witness is taking longer than he expected, he’s going to be at least another hour, maybe two.” He clears his throat nervously. He can hear her heartbeat, can smell the warm scent of her skin, can feel the heat that radiates from her in the enclosed space, and he puts his hands in his pockets to stop himself from reaching out to touch her.

He’s been thinking about Karen all afternoon, his enhanced senses attuned to her presence even while he’s working. The smell of her, complex and tantalizing, is fainter when he’s inside his office, but still perceptible; the beat of her blood, the sound of her breath a constant background in his ears. The swish of her hair, the faint rustling of her dress, even the small sounds she makes as she works are a distraction, keeping him constantly aware of her nearness. Most days he’s able to ignore the sensory hum of other people and focus on his work, but Karen has been slowly but surely getting under his skin for months, to an extent he never anticipated when she first started working at Nelson and Murdock. 

And now the two of them are alone, and unlikely to be interrupted. Desire sings in his blood. He knows exactly how he’d like to spend the next hour or two, but he has no idea how to broach the subject. He’s fairly confident that she wants him, but that doesn’t mean she wants him here, now, like this. Sex in the workplace is a minefield he’s never attempted to navigate before, and he and Karen have never so much as kissed. He feels incredibly awkward. A warm flush creeps up his face, and he wonders if this is a completely terrible idea and he should just go back to his office.

Karen sees the blush, his stiff posture, hands in pockets, his averted face. He’s not getting anything from the kitchen, he apparently came over just to tell her they have the place to themselves. Does he—? Is he suggesting—? She sips her coffee, her mouth suddenly dry, and watches him closely.

“There’s nothing on the calendar for the rest of the day,” she tells him, setting her cup down and taking a step toward him. “No meetings, we aren’t expecting anyone. We’re on our own.” She sounds a little breathless, even to herself.

He lifts his head, and drifts a step closer. She’s rarely seen him this close without his glasses on, and his eyes are beautiful. A small smile is tugging at the corners of his mouth, but he still chews his lip uncertainly. She feels a wild impulse to offer him her lip to chew on instead, and only narrowly avoids bursting into nervous giggles.

Matt hears the catch in her breath, her racing heart. He smells desire, and a little nervous sweat. She clearly got his hint, despite his utter lack of smoothness, and she definitely seems interested. He can hear his own heartbeat pick up, the blood pounding in his ears.

Karen takes his hand and brings it to her face so he can feel her smile, and because she needs him to touch her. His fingers stroke lightly over her mouth and cheeks, and his own smile is wider now and more confident. He cups her chin in his palm and runs his thumb over her lips, back and forth. Just that, and already she wants to moan and climb him like a tree. She parts her lips and catches his thumb between her teeth, then sucks it into her mouth. He nearly does moan. Without any further hesitation he steps forward, tugs his thumb free, and kisses her.

Karen melts against him, sliding one arm around his hips to pull him closer, molding her body to his. She kisses him back eagerly, her tongue darting out to tease his lips, just the tip flicking softly against him until he opens and lets her in. He tastes coffee, his own tongue sliding into her mouth, hungry for more. He slips one arm around her, his other hand still cupping her face, and lets the sensations wash over him.

Her cheek feels smooth and warm. Her body in her thin summer dress is soft and pliant, flushed with heat. He caresses her back, letting his hand glide around and down her side, feeling the curve of her waist and the swell of her hips, and back up again. He aches to touch her skin, feeling the shape of her through fabric is almost as frustrating as it is satisfying. Her arms are firm around him, one hand trailing up and down his spine, the other sliding low to cup his ass. He presses his growing erection against her with a small groan. He runs his hand into her hair, feeling the silky softness slip between his fingers, smelling the grapefruit scent of her shampoo. Her lips are hot and heavy against his, her tongue exploring his mouth as he explores hers.

She rocks her hips against him, and hears his breath catch. Her skin tingles, every nerve ending on alert, warmth growing low in her belly. The touch of his hands only makes her want more, his kisses igniting her like a powder keg. She almost can’t believe this is actually happening, she and Matt are making out, right here in the office—

He breaks the kiss, just enough to ask breathlessly, “Karen— Can we— Do you want to—“

“Yes,” she breathes against his skin. She opens her eyes to the tiny kitchen, briefly considers logistics, and adds, “But, uh, maybe not in here.”

He laughs, a low, warm chuckle that makes her knees go weak. “No, you’re right. There’s barely enough room in here for this…” he kisses her again, deep and hungry, “let alone anything else. Well then, I’m open to suggestion.”

“Oh, are you?” She grins. “Duly noted.” She leans in for another long kiss, tugging his shirt out of his waistband so she can get her hands on his skin. He moans his approval, his hands roaming over her body. One hand finds her breast, feeling the hard peak of her nipple even through the extra layer of her bra. She gasps and smiles against his lips, then pulls away to suggest, “Conference room?”

“Conference room,” he agrees. “No clutter. Empty table. Good choice.”

They step out of the kitchen, and Matt locks the main door of the office just to be safe. Karen detours to her desk and rummages in her purse, emerging triumphant with a strip of condoms. She puts them in his hand, and he raises his eyebrows.

“Karen. Why did you bring condoms to work?”

She laughs. “I didn’t. Not specifically. I just got in the habit a while back of always keeping a few in my purse, so I couldn’t forget to grab them when I was going out. Don’t mock, because now _we_ —“ she kisses him, soft and slow,—“can do whatever we want.”

“I would never mock. Especially when I stand to benefit from your excellent idea.” He returns the kiss and tucks the condoms in his shirt pocket, then she takes hold of his necktie and tows him into the conference room.

Anticipation crackles in the air between them, both of them realizing that _This is actually going to happen._ As soon as they’re through the doorway they’re kissing again, heated and urgent. Karen undoes Matt’s tie and pulls it off, unbuttoning his shirt with shaking fingers while he fumbles for the zipper in the back of her dress.

“I’ve been thinking about this all afternoon,” he murmurs against her cheek, the ragged sound of his voice feeding the warmth between her legs.

“So have I,” she answers, sounding just as ragged. She runs a hand down his body, looking at him, taking in the lean, muscular shape of him, the planes of his chest, his chiseled abs rising incongruously out of his neat, professional pants. The scars. She traces the line of a healed gash in his side with a fingertip, then smoothes her hand over it. “Every time I looked up I could see you in your office, looking sexy, I wanted to go in there, climb into your lap and—“ she kisses him deeply, grinding her hips against his and pushing his shirt off his shoulders.

“Ahhhhh, god, Karen,” he gasps, laughing. He lets go of her long enough to pull his arms out of his shirt sleeves, then reaches inside her dress, unhooking her bra and stroking the long, bare expanse of her back. “I don’t even need to look up, I could hear you, I could smell you, and god, I wanted to touch you.”

“Sounds distracting,” she says breathlessly.

“It is. You are.” He kisses her cheeks, her eyes, her forehead, mapping out every contour of her face with his lips. He rubs his cheek against hers, trailing his lips over her ear, his breath warm on her skin. She wraps her arms around him, pulling his body against hers and running her hands over his back and shoulders. His erection presses against her, hard and promising. She kisses along the line of his jaw, feeling the light scratch of stubble on her lips.

She’s backed up right against the conference room table, the edge of the table top pressing into the backs of her thighs as Matt pulls her dress down off her shoulders. She pulls her arms out of the sleeves and the fabric pools around her waist, her bra dropping to the floor. His hands glide over her body, from her collarbones down to her hips, back up over her ribs, settling on her breasts. He cups them gently, circling his thumbs around the edge of her nipples, feeling where the texture of her skin changes. He traces around them lightly, taking his time, making her shiver, her stomach muscles tightening. He kisses her, his tongue slipping into her mouth, and she sucks it in further eagerly. His thumbs finally slide across her nipples, teasing the erect tips, and she quivers and moans.

He kisses her neck, feeling her pulse beat rapidly under his lips, flicking his tongue out to taste the salt of her skin. She grips his shoulders, leaning against the table as her legs threaten to give out. He trails kisses along her collarbone and down her chest, sliding his hands around to her back as his mouth finds a breast. Karen inhales sharply as he closes his lips around the nipple, sucking, running his tongue over and around the peak.

He tries to slip a hand between her legs, but her dress is still bunched up there, held in place by the table behind her. He tugs on the fabric and she straightens up, moving forward just enough for the dress to slide to the floor. He strokes the softness of her inner thigh, trailing his fingers up to rub firmly between her legs, and she gasps, tilting her hips, guiding the pressure to where she wants it. He can feel her wetness through the fabric of her panties, can smell her arousal, can hear her panting breath. His cock is painfully hard, straining against his pants—why is he still wearing pants? Clearly, clearly he’d be better off without them.

Apparently Karen thinks the same. She reaches for his belt, quickly unbuckling him and opening his fly, reaching inside to grasp him through his boxers. He groans, his hips bucking forward. She cups his face in her free hand, pulling his lips to hers, and for a long moment they stand, kissing urgently, stroking each other and breathing out needy, inarticulate sounds.

Then she slides her fingers under his waistband, gently easing his boxers down past his rigid cock, letting them and his pants slide to the floor. He slips off his shoes and kicks his pants away. She takes hold of his cock and pumps him in her fist, pulling a strangled sound from him.

“Keep that up and I’m not gonna last,” he warns her breathlessly. She grins, pressing her cheek against his shoulder, and lets him go.

He pulls her panties down over her hips, pausing to caress the smooth curves of her ass, and her breath gusts against him in a warm sigh. She kicks off her shoes, stepping out of her panties, and he slides a hand between her thighs again. She rests her buttocks on the edge of the table and spreads her legs open.

Gently, carefully, he strokes her flesh, and she quivers, her breath catching. He winds his other arm around her, kissing her deep and slow while his fingers trace her slick folds. She grips his shoulders again, making small sounds of approval, of need, as he feels his way over her delicate skin. He tugs gently on her labia, runs a fingertip around the edges of her sensitive opening, to her breathy cries of encouragement. He slips a finger inside her and she gasps, her muscles clenching. He slides his finger in and out, pressing and stroking firmly inside her, and she groans softly. He pulls back out and circles around her clit, and she writhes against him with a moan. He focuses all his attention on her responses, finding her most sensitive spots.

Karen closes her eyes, his touch driving her wild, his lips hot on hers, his shoulders firm and steadying under her hands. It’s almost unbearable, she needs to come but she also wants it to last, to not be over too soon. Her breathing turns quick and shallow as her tension mounts, the heat inside her growing, until finally she cries out and shudders, her muscles spasming against his fingers.

She presses her forehead to his for a long moment, catching her breath, enjoying the solid feel of his arms around her. Then she reaches down and runs a fingertip firmly up the underside of his cock, making him twitch and shiver, and reminds him, “Condoms in your shirt pocket. On the floor, right behind you.”

He turns away and fumbles on the floor, then straightens back up and rolls on a condom. She tugs him back in by his hips, leaning forward to kiss him, leisurely and thorough. She takes his cock in one hand to guide him into her, but it’s an awkward position, with him standing up and her half sitting on the table. She lifts one leg and wraps it around the back of his thighs, tilting her hips until she suddenly finds the right angle and he slides in, making them both gasp.

“All right?” he asks breathlessly.

“Yes, yes, go ahead.”

She leans back, resting her weight on her elbows, half reclining on the table as he takes hold of her hips and slowly starts to thrust in and out. He looks aroused and needy and utterly gorgeous, his cheeks flushed, lips parted and red, his eyes glowing with desire. His cock presses deep inside her, and she moans, arching her back. 

The sound of her, the feel of her soft, heated flesh tightly enclosing him, is overwhelming. He picks up the pace, unable to hold back any longer. His breathing stutters and catches as his muscles tense, her small, eager sounds driving him on, until at last he throws back his head and comes with a hoarse cry. His hips jack forward a few more times, his whole body shuddering, before he relaxes and slips out of her, completely spent. He grabs the edge of the table, his legs suddenly wobbly.

Karen sits up straight and wraps her arms around him, pulling him close and resting her head on his shoulder. He sighs and leans against her, his cheek rubbing against her hair as his breathing and heart rate gradually slow back to normal. Her body pressed to his is all soft curves, both of them boneless and content.

After a few minutes, she laughs quietly.

“Hmmmm?” he asks.

“Matt, we just had sex on the conference room table.”

“Yeah, we sure did.” He chuckles, because it does sound kind of incredible said out loud like that.

She says it again, with emphasis. “You and I. Had _sex._ On the _conference room table._ Oh my god.” She laughs again, amazed, and it’s such a happy sound that he can’t help laughing with her.

She lifts her head, and reaches up to tilt his face so she can press a series of quick, light kisses across his lips. Then she slides her hand up into his hair, running her fingers over his scalp, making his skin tingle. He melts against her, uttering an inarticulate _Nnnnngh,_ tipping his head and leaning into her touch like a pleased cat.

She smiles against his cheek. “I wanted to do this before,” she tells him. "When you first walked into the kitchen, you looked so good, I wanted to run my fingers through your hair.”

“Really?”

“Mmm hmm. Among other things.”

“Your story intrigues me, Miss Page. Are there any other ways you’d like to touch me that haven’t yet been addressed?”

“Oh, I’m sure I can think of a few, Mister Murdock.”

He grins, and trails his fingers lazily down her back. But his brain is starting to think ahead now. What does this—What does _he_ —mean to her? As amazing as this afternoon has been, he knows he wants more than just a quick sexual adventure.

So he asks, “Will you have dinner with me?”

Karen goes still for a moment. She hadn’t thought that far ahead yet, but yes, absolutely, _yes._ She realizes she’s stopped breathing, and exhales with a delighted little laugh, exclaiming “Yes!” He beams, relieved. She beams back.

“Why, Matt,” she asks teasingly, “Do you believe in dating after the first fuck?”

He laughs out loud, then composes his face and voice into mock seriousness. “Well, it depends on how I feel about the person,” he answers earnestly. “If the first fuck went well, and I know I’d like to do it again, then I don’t see any need to wait to start dating, if both of us want to.” 

His eyes sparkle despite his gravity, and she grins. This is a side of him she’s only rarely glimpsed, unguarded and playful, and it’s ridiculously charming.

“Good,” she tells him. “That’s exactly how I feel about it. I would be happy to date you.” 

He smiles again, his eyes crinkling— _also_ ridiculously charming, for the record—and leans in to kiss her, unhurried now, soft and gentle. They part reluctantly, hands lingering, shoulders nudging each other as they gather up their clothes and get dressed, both of them still smiling.


End file.
